


Long Road

by Nori



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, and feeling out some of the other voices too, just getting a handle on my warden's voice, practice drabble basically
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 04:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3754156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nori/pseuds/Nori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who would have guessed that the assassin would turn out to be her favorite?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Road

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a bit a few months ago trying to get a hang of my warden and I figured it's ok enough to post. My warden has developed a bit since I wrote this so I doubt I'll do any more with it. I'm afraid of tackling character's voices, so you'll notice that I gleefully ripped almost all the dialogue from the game.

“If it’s questions you’re planning on asking me, let me save you a little time and get right to the point. My name is Zevran… Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly.”

“I’m rather happy you failed,” Jesi offers. If he wants to be glib, she won’t stop him.

“So would I be, in your shoes,” he replies easily. He continues on, answering every question Alistair and Morrigan ply him with steadfast aplomb. Jesi stops listening, choosing instead to give him a quick once over. He’s still lying in a heap on the ground, and she wonders if it’s a ploy to make them relax or simply a response to the thorough trouncing Alistair had given him. She’s certainly seen a fair many targets lose track of time after being walloped by the man’s shield. Otherwise, his injuries don’t look very grievous. The most obvious is a sluggishly bleeding slice on his forearm and the angry, red bite marks on the back of his hand. 

She tips a glance at the mabari leaning against her thigh, but he seems genuinely unconcerned with the man lying at their feet. _Fat lot of good you are_ she thinks, scratching behind his ears absently. To her right, Alistair and Morrigan cast their own judgement. Her fellow Grey Warden looks unimpressed, ready to end this farce and continue on their way to Redcliffe and his Arl Eamon. Morrigan, Maker bless her twisted soul, is smiling delightedly. The witch meets her gaze, and Jesi lifts an eyebrow questioningly. Her smile grows all the sharper and Jesi realizes that everyone is waiting for her to say something. 

“I’m listening. Make it quick,” she grunts, gesturing vaguely. She’s not even sure who she’s responding to, to be perfectly honest. Thank the Maker for all the times she’d gotten into trouble as a child, and resorted to lies and flattery to appease the visiting lords and ladies. All the practice she’d gotten then has proven quite useful to her during this troubling time. 

“Well, here’s the thing,” the elf starts in his odd, rolling accent. Jesi has heard her share of Orlesian accents, and even the haughty drawl of the Tevinter Imperium once, but she’s never heard an Antivan before today. “I failed to kill you,” the elf continues, “so my life is forfeit. That’s how it works. If you don’t kill me, the Crows will. Thing is, I like living. And you obviously are the sort to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you, instead.”

Alistair snorts sharply, turning to stare at her with an expression which very clearly reads, “can you believe this guy?” Morrigan laughs. Jesi sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. Isn’t it enough that she’s been tasked with stopping the Blight? Not to mention the possessed boy at Redcliffe Castle, their subsequent journey to a besieged Circle Tower, and the two written promises she still has to wave around under the right noses to finish gathering her army. Now she has to decide the fate of this absurd, oh-so-charming assassin too?

“I could also stand around and look pretty, if you prefer. Warm your bed? Fend off unwanted suitors? No?”

“No,” she replies flatly, arms crossed as she stares down at the elf. He hurries on, undeterred, senseless blather meant to sway them to sympathy. It seems even assassins are prone to desperate pleading when their lives are on the line. Still, she can’t help the little twitch of a smile tugging at her lips. Even lying prone, humiliated and beaten, there’s something honest and cheerful about him, little bits of truth interspersed with the self deprecating humor. 

“So, what will it be?” he continues, and does he _ever_ shut up? “I’ll even shine armor. You won’t find a better deal, I promise.”

She stares down at him blankly, struggling to come to a decision. On the one hand, it’s obviously a very bad idea to welcome the assassin hired to kill you into your ragtag party. On the other hand… someone well versed in the finer points of assassination wouldn’t be unwanted in the struggle to save Ferelden.

“Very well. I accept your offer.”

“What?” Alistair splutters. “You’re taking the assassin with us now? Does that really seem like a good idea?”

She takes a deep breath, organizing her reasoning into a few simple words. “Don’t worry about it,” she soothes. “We could use him.” She doesn’t bother to mention the gut feeling that the assassin has no wicked intentions, that his desire to leave the Crows is genuine. Alistair would likely scoff at the notion, anyway. 

“All right, all right. I see your point,” he mutters, obviously put out by the idea. She ignores him as he mutters his complaints to Morrigan, extending a hand to the elf lying before her. He takes a hold of her, letting her haul him to his feet. Despite knowing the man was an elf, she still finds herself a little surprised to be looking down at him when he straightens up. 

“I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you,” he says smartly, sounding serious for the first time in this exchange, “until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation… this I swear.” 

He tips his head politely, and Jesi feels certain she’s made the right decision. 

“Well, then,” Morrigan chirps in that vaguely condescending way she says most things. She looks to Jesi, terribly amused by this whole venture. 

“Right,” Jesi says, forcing one of the polite, welcoming smiles she’d perfected in the company of nobles across her lips, “well. Welcome aboard, Zev.”

###### 

“Can you believe she brought an assassin back with her? I mean really. An assassin. Hired to _kill her_.”

“She… she must have a good reason, surely?”

“She said we could use him, but I’m not sure how an assassin--who we completely routed, by the way--is actually going to help fighting darkspawn. It’s not like we need to make their deaths look like accidents.”

“But didn’t her eyes light up when he made his offer?”

“Ugh, Morrigan, don’t bring that up. I shudder to even think of it.”

“What… offer is that?”

“He offered to warm her bed. Such a charming way with words, our new companion has.”

“That can’t be the reason. She wouldn’t jeopardize all of Ferelden for _that_!”

Jesi frowns down at her thin soup, watching the campfire’s reflection dance on the broth. She doesn’t begrudge them their gossip. After all, there are far worse things in life than her newfound friends thinking she’s that desperate for a bedmate. Like the Blight, which she is far from qualified to deal with. Or the massacre at Ostagar that had stripped Ferelden of most of its army and all but two Grey Wardens just hours after her own Joining. Or the murder of her parents in their own home by the treacherous Arl Howe. All in all, she _wishes_ her biggest problem was being desperate to knock boots with an elf. 

So the talking is fine. Leliana will likely appreciate being kept up to date with their adventure, since she’d been stuck at camp at all day, and Alistair can wring his complaints out on someone who might care. It’d be nice, however, if they’d have their conversation a little farther away from the campfire. The assassin in question sits within arm’s reach of her, lazily scrubbing at his dagger in the flickering firelight. If _she_ can hear their every word, there’s no doubt that he can too. She hadn’t expected a warm welcome for him, but she’d rather thought they’d want to be on his good side before retiring to their tents for the night. 

She watches him surreptitiously, trying to ascertain his feelings on the matter. He has wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, lines worn around his mouth, as though he spends his every moment smiling, and yet she cannot recall seeing such an expression on his face during the day. He’d kept up a steady stream of entertaining stories as they’d trudged back to camp earlier, but there’s no hint of his easy humor in the firm set of his shoulders and the grim line of his mouth. Jesi doesn’t doubt her decision to bring him along, but she can’t shake the feeling that there is much more to him than the laughing, perverted fool he’d presented to them. 

“If you have interest in some of my… _services_ , Grey Warden, you need only ask,” he speaks up, hand stilling on the blade. His voice is light and joking, but his eyes are sharp in the firelight. Jesi swallows nervously. He’s handsome enough, but she doesn’t make it a habit to sleep with men she doesn’t know. Especially when they’re her would be assassin. 

“Uh… No, thank you. I…” she stutters, kicking herself for letting him catch her off guard. “I was simply worried you’d be offended.” She gestures across the fire, where Alistair and Leliana are still bent close, whispering to each other. 

“Offended?” he asks, sitting up straight. “That they think a woman as beautiful and capable as yourself would want to take me back to her tent to have her wicked way with me? No, my dear Grey Warden, I am anything but offended.”

She drops her eyes to her soup, feeling heat climb into her cheeks. He certainly doesn’t shy away from complimenting appearances. He’d been occupied earlier with talk of Alistair’s more appealing aspects but now that she’s become the focus of his attention, she almost feels bad for her fellow Grey Warden. 

“Um, right. Well. I apologize on their behalf. They’re good people, for the most part, but… I mean, you were trying to kill us a few hours ago.”

He tips his head back and laughs. It’s a rich, warm sound and Jesi finds herself smiling in response. It’s hard to imagine him as a stone cold killer for hire.

“That I was,” he says jovially, turning back to the sword on his lap. “That I was.”


End file.
